


Beyond the Pale

by UmbranExile



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Angst, Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Tags May Change, no beta we die like men, tbh I have no idea where I'm going with this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2020-02-27 15:40:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18742015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UmbranExile/pseuds/UmbranExile
Summary: As the Seals begin to crumble and a lost war is on the horizon, the Pale King asks the Moth Tribe for their assistance one last time. This time, he has a gift.





	1. Behold, your Wielder

The throne room was dark. Silent. Even among the glowing roots, the lanterns and the magnificent light of its King and Queen, darkness still crept along the corners. However, the King's eyes did not waver from his audience of one, scrutinizing his subject under his pale gaze. Until, finally, he spoke, his voice no louder than a sigh.

"My Kingdom is dying," he intoned. "When this sacred land first came to be, your kin were the first to be drawn to my light. When bug and beast once wandered from this haven, this realm of light, your kin were the ones who kept their faith. Even now, while the Great Walls are crumbling before us and death lays beyond its wake, your kin shall serve under my watch and will answer to my call."

The elderly moth said nothing as she bowed at the figures before her. Their presence was incredible, true, she begun to understand why her fickle ancestors had decided on this path. The King rose slowly from his throne.

"Yet, despite your diligence, your allegiance was born from treachery."

He stepped forward, closer, the moth struggling to match her gaze against his. Silence lingered heavily in the air.

"Traitorous kin, do you swear on King and Kingdom to atone for the sins of the past? To serve, teach and protect the one who will banish the light that plagues their dreams?"

The King stood tall above his subject, who remained unshaken under his immense presence.

"Will you give your all and more to save Hallownest?"

The moth did not hesitate to nod.

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Seemingly satisfied, the Pale King gestured to the Queen to come forward, where she then strode elegantly onwards, carrying a bundle in her arms.

"Behold, one of impenetrable mind, an unbreakable will and unfathomable resolve. Behold, your Wielder, the last Knight."

The Queen handed the small bundle to the moth, who was greeted to a child, a hatchling no less, utterly still and staring blankly up at her. The Queen cleared her throat.

"You know what must be done, Seer?"

The Seer felt herself go numb. How she wished those words would never be said to this child. This poor, poor child.

"I do."

With there little more to discuss, she was dismissed, leaving the darkened palace with child in hand. The King and Queen returned to their thrones, figures slumping under weight and worry.

"Dear Wyrm, pray this is the last we must suffer this ill-gotten fate. The regrets of our actions are becoming too much to bear."

The King remained silent for the longest time before he uttered his tired words.

"No cost too great."

 

Tired legs and tired arms moved stiffly as the Seer travelled homeward. _What a burden it is to be old,_ thought the Seer. _But also a blessing, many have not been so lucky. I must remember that._

Soon, the caverns around stilled as rows of royal graves, memorials of great knights, bugs of servitude and the woefully unfortunate approached. Her antennae twitched as the spirits watched from afar. The air grew thick with remnants of memories, clinging to the walls like dust. The soothing sounds of water and the cheerful chatter of her kin grew louder. She was home.

The other moths peered out of their tents from high and low throughout the cavern. Solemn workers that emerged from the stag station, grim coffins and cargo in tow, gave curious glances towards the growing commotion. Seer ignored everyone as best as she could. She had one focus at the moment and would not let anyone near until it was time.

The moth allowed herself to relax as she entered her tent. Plush purple pillows and velvet rugs and curtains were draped all around the room, accompanied by an abundance of dreamcatchers that hung above. Littered across the cobblestone ground were numerous candles and incense sticks, all perfectly placed and designed to put any inhabitants at ease. _I hope this will do, good rest seems to elude us lately,_ the Seer thought.

Carefully, the Seer unravelled the bundle and lowered the hatchling until their feet touched the soft floor. The child took in their surroundings, hollow eyes gazing from one thing to the next. They then stared up at the Seer with a tilt of their head and a curious look before toddling along to their next interests. The Seer chuckled. No matter how many hatchlings she cared for, she was always so endeared by their innocence.

She shuffled towards a shelf, gingerly dusted off the box upon it and opened it. She sighed. Why must something so sacred and good be used in such a terrible way? A miserable burden, but one that must be held. With a shake of her head, she turned around, only to see the edge of a blue cloak leave the tent. She hurried outside. The child walked around outside on uncertain legs, being uncomfortably close to the path's edge and a very, very long drop. The elderly moth yelped and scooped the child into her arms. She then quickly carried them back inside and plopped them onto the floor. They merely stared up at the Seer in response. They didn't seem too bothered that this strange lady interrupted their adventure.

"How in Hallownest did you sneak out? Why, I'd say you're as quiet as the ghosts out there. Such frights aren't good for an old soul like me. Please do not wander off, little one." The child stared back in reply.

The Seer then knelt down and held the item out to them: A hilt made of silver, with the emblem of a dreamcatcher, the very image of Essence adorned on top.

"This, child, is a blade held most sacred by our tribe. The Dream Nail. Few were honoured to be granted use of such a thing, none have had the chance to tap into its true potential. To hone its brilliance and one's own mind and powers with it, to walk between the realms of dreams and waking. None have been bestowed with such a gift... until you, that is. Take it, Wielder. Take it and you will achieve wonderful things."

The child, silent as ever, took the Seer's gift and examined the hilt closely in their hand. The nail glimmered in the candlelight, the emblem spinning slowly as it reacted to its wielder. They then gave the blade a cursory shake... before they dropped it on the ground and headed toward their mission of exploring the pile of pillows behind them. The Seer sat there, dumbfounded, but far from surprised.

After an hour of the "little ghost" running around, exploring their strange new home of theirs, they eventually grew tired and soon fell asleep. The Seer watched over the tiny figure, their body curled up snugly on one of the many pillows surrounding them. She placed a hand on their head. Nothing. She found no thoughts or feelings within their mind. If they did, she could not sense it. A remarkable bug, of which its dreams lie hidden deep in a impenetrable shell... or did not possess. She shivered at the thought.

She stepped outside to the cool cavern air, rubbing her claws together nervously. High and below, her tribe carried on, dutifully tending to the holy resting grounds. Honoured yet ashamed, endlessly atoning for their sins. Waiting for the day when the war will end and this kingdom finds peace. She feared this day would come too soon.

Her antennae perked up as she heard something stir inside her tent. The infant silently twitched and snuffled in their sleep, as would many hatchlings did when they had nightmares. With practised arms, the Seer picked up her child and held them close, humming a song made by her, just for them. Their stirring calmed. They grabbed her fluff with tiny hands. They returned to their slumber. Soon, the Seer sat down, holding her child close, and as she did, she ached. But she embraced the feeling. She knew she would miss it.


	2. Call from the Beyond

The young moth skipped and ran through the cavern, pushing away others as he went by. Why did he have to be the one on a fetch quest? Didn't the elder care he was extremely busy? Regardless, he rushed through a graveyard and towards the waterfall, where he found a pair of horns sticking out from behind the bush. The moth cleared his throat. "Excuse me, Wielder? The Elder was looking for you. She said you shouldn't be late for your rounds again."

No reply came from the bush. However, after a moment, the horns emerged as the bug stood up to its full height, the size as a fully grown mantis, and loomed over the moth. The tall bug then bowed at the messenger before taking off towards the glade.

The sound of their feet tapping upon the stone floor echoed throughout as the bug jumped and rushed onward. Moths, mourners and workers alike muttered angrily as a rush of black, blue and white sped by. Suddenly, a cluster of young moths fluttered around the tall bug, halting their progress.

"Little Ghost! Little Ghost! Play with us!" the children chanted. The bug shook their head and ran past, leaving behind a chorus of disappointed groans.

Meanwhile, purple wings twitched with impatience as the elder moth stood still in the glade. Usually, she wouldn't have minded; the spirits weren't going anywhere after all. But today, an aura of agitation stagnated in the air, stirring up the spirits rest. "Perhaps the others don't like to be kept waiting either," the Seer thought to herself. Soon, a presence approached quietly from behind, which met the elderly moth with bows of apologies.

"There you are, my child. I know things have gotten busy as of late but I do wish you would be on time more often." The Seer shook her head. "No matter. The spirits are restless today. Please check on them and get them back to rest, child."

With that, she handed to Ghost a staff like her own: a wooden staff with a small glass orb filled with lumaflies hanging by the crook. A common tool of the grave-tenders here. Then, the two visited each and every grave lined before them, listening to the spirit's lament, doing their best to console them before moving on to the next. It was a slow task, and with more and more burials arriving every day, it quickly became draining for everyone involved.

* * *

Far up above the cavern depths was a barren, lifeless land where none sane of mind would go. Harsh winds howled and blew sand over fresh footprints, whispering words of warning as one by one, the bugs trudged forward. Here on the surface where no sun or sanctuary remained, the bug's orange eyes gleamed brightly. One by one, ten by ten, many by many moved as one. There, at the very back, was one who stood above them all, who's eyes shone the brightest. They watched their army stagger onwards, never blinking, ever silent. Still, the Walls stood defiantly, the masks staring the caped bug down. Their words rang clear. No one enters. No one leaves. Knowing this, the knight threw back their head and screamed.

* * *

Ghost's head snapped up towards the sound. For a long while, they did not move, save for the silent rise and fall of their chest. The Seer couldn't help but peer back over her shoulder at them, clasping her claws tightly as she did. The moth crept back over to her child and placed her hand on their arm. They offered no response. Thinking of no comforting words to offer, the Seer merely guided her child with a gentle touch, back home where warmth, love and shelter waited.

From afar, in the dim, calming light, the Seer could see her child practising their combat. They slashed the practise dummy with swiftness and fervour, hacking rotten wooden chips off the old post as they did. As they usually did when they were bothered by something. They strafed and circled the dummy, combining swings of both nail and Dreamnail alike. They remembered their training well. A blessing for the Moth Tribe were ever pacifists, and the few that trained them had left indefinitely soon after.

"My child?" Ghost halted immediately, turning towards the familiar voice. The Seer could not look them in the eye.

"It is time."

 

Every moth in the Resting Grounds crowded around the Seer's tent, Ghost awkwardly looming above the rest. The elderly moth looked up at her child. Her eyes shrouded with sorrow but a glint of pride could still be seen on her face.

"It must be said," she started. "If I could, I would do everything in my power so you would stay and make sure you were happy. So you wouldn't have to atone for our sins and ours alone." The crowd all had looks of shame, their gazes fell anywhere but the two before them.

"But from the moment you came here, we knew you were the chosen one we waited so long for. This kingdom's memories, they cling to you like dust. All you need do is listen. Meet others. Remember their history. Then you and the Dreamnail will grow stronger. Tear down the walls of dreaming and waking. Bring back the peace. And please, do not remember us. We do not deserve it..."

With her eyes closed in reverie, the Seer could not see Ghost suddenly kneeling down and enveloping her in a hug. Startled, she hesitated before returning the motion.

"Little Ghost... Ah, but you are not so little any more, are you? It is an unfair fate you were given and one we can hardly begin to repay. But know as I do in my heart that it was a blessing to have raised you. You give us hope, Wielder. Know that no matter what your journey brings, we are proud." With that, Ghost stood up to their full height and bowed. They started to turn, eyes falling to the Stag Station before the Seer cleared her throat.

"One last thing, child..." From under her wings, she pulled out a few purple strands of her wing and held it out to Ghost. "A gift, from all of us. There is a long journey ahead of you. I pray you get all the help you can find."

With a slight tilt of their head, Ghost gingerly grabbed the moth wing strands, examined them closely before clasping them tight. The strands began to glow in their grasp and with a bright flash, the wing disappeared and Ghost's blue cloak shimmered in the light.

_Obtained the Mothwing Cloak._

The moths cheered and waved to Ghost as they stood outside the Stag Station. They waved back as they took one last look at their family and their home. However, the goodbyes did not last long as they stepped inside. Someone was calling them.


End file.
